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"MARY WEAVES MAGIC WITH WORDS. ROMANTIC, FUNNY, BIGGER-THAN-LIFE CHARACTERS TAKE YOU ON A WHIRLWIND JOURNEY TO A PERFECT ENDING." -Dianne Price, Author of Seahedge, Shadowtide, and Proud Captive In a world that might have been... Snatched by coldblooded enemies as a declaration of war, Eleanor Williamston finds herself caught in a deadly snare-miles from home and lost in the wilderness. Her heart is drawn to the handsome palace guardsman who rescues her, but is torn when he challenges her political ideals-and then reveals something he's kept hidden that will make her choice even more difficult. Marsten longs for a God-fearing wife, but cannot marry the lady he desires. The sassy young schoolteacher he rescues catches his eye, but he fears she'll turn out to be like the beautiful women who've broken his trust in the past. Journey with them through the spectacular but treacherous Aspian Mountains while they evade enemy pursuit and wrestle through the challenges of wilderness and budding love, only to run headlong into Ellie's anti-royalist family-and a whole new onslaught of foes. "AN UNFORGETTABLE JOURNEY...THE CHARACTERS COME ALIVE IN A RIVETING STORY WOVEN WITH RICHLY CRAFTED LANGUAGE." -Michael K. Brown, Atlanta Writers' Club "VERY ENJOYABLE TO READ!" -Jane Simerman, American Christian Fiction Writers

Chapter Two Morning "I will sing of Your might! I will sing aloud of Your enduring love in the morning. For You have been to me a stronghold, and a sanctuary in the time of my distress." - Psalm 59:16 The warm morning air held the promise of another humid summer day. A mist lay over scattered sea pines, stretching down rocky slopes to the water. Seabirds called to one another from outcroppings, and a flock of herring gulls whirled and keened through the golden pink sky to announce the approaching dawn. Fluttering down in clusters, the gulls gathered on the shore to greet the fiery sun. The surf splashed against rocky shelves, leaving strings of seaweed strewn along the edge like ribbons after a banquet. Thirty yards up sloping rock from the water, in a cave under an outcropping, Eleanor grimaced and blinked at the sun. She tried to roll over, and groaned. There wasn't an inch of her that didn't ache. Why did her bed feel like...granite? She tried to sit up and knocked her head against the overhanging rock. She grunted and winced while she rubbed the spot. Her wrists were bruised where the twine had bound her. A shudder swept over her when she recalled the events of the previous night. Eleanor was indeed lying on cold rock, wrapped in a silk and woolen cloak, many miles from her soft, quilted bed. Groaning again, she peered out through morning mists. The little cave where she was huddled faced toward the shore, over a series of rocky ledges flanked on either side by sparse maritime pine forest. To her right, the dancing water of the Silverleaf raced in swirls toward the sea, from a small waterfall that splashed somewhere around the rocky slope. Her gaze was drawn to the clearing below, and fell upon her rescuer. He knelt upon the ground. His hair was dark brown and thick, chin-length and wavy, and he sported several days' growth of beard. The early morning shadows framed by misty sunlight hid his features, but she recalled from the night before that he was attractive. He'd told her his name. What was it? Ah, yes. Marsten. A royal guardsman from Crestmere Palace. A royal guardsman—hah! Wouldn't her father be in a quandary about that? The daughter of anti-royalist Freedom Falcon leader and mayor of Amberly, Jon Williamston, rescued by a guardsman of kings! She'd best not reveal to the guardsman who her father was. At least, not yet. After Marsten's daring rescue, he'd escorted her by moonlight, first to his camp to retrieve his things then to this place, where he'd insisted on building a fire and using a flaming torch to purge the overhang of spiders and other vermin so she could sleep in relative comfort. A courteous one this guardsman was, and no mistake. There wasn't anything her Da could fuss about on that count. Oh, Da and Mam. Did they even know yet that she'd been abducted? Lord, comfort them. Now the warrior bent over a large rock in an attitude of fervent prayer, his forehead pressed against his upturned hands, with a small Scripture book and a pair of half-spectacles lying before him on the rock. "Hmm," Eleanor mumbled. A man of faith as well as war? A deep yawn overtook her while she stretched her arms. Then, burrowing down into the soft, silk-lined cloak, she slipped back into a warm, sound sleep. Eleanor stirred again, aroused by the enticing aroma of...simmering fish? She looked out and saw Marsten moving a small pan over an open fire. The fog had lifted, and she had her first sight of him in bright daylight. He was now wearing a light brown shirt. His hair was damp, and she was a little disappointed to see he was cleanly shaven. His smoothly muscled face was graced with classic Sascan features—firm, high cheeks, straight nose, dark eyes shadowed beneath long, arched brows, and a narrow mouth with a hint of fullness in the middle of his lips. He looked dimly familiar. She'd been to Crestmere, but couldn't recall any particularly eye-catching guardsmen. Goodness, but wasn't he a handsome one indeed! She gave a little sigh. Fine-looking, aye, but a royalist. And a palace royalist at that. No doubt loyal down to his stalwart Sascan bones. He interrupted her musings with a glance in her direction. His eyes under thick black lashes were a bright, piercing blue. "Good morning to you, milady." He rose to his feet and bowed toward her. His accent was pure Crestmere. "Good mornin', sir. Have you any idea what time it might be?" She rubbed her eyes. Marsten pulled a small gold pocket-watch from his britches pocket. "Half-past six." She stifled a grunt. "Thank you. S'cuse me, if you please." In urgent need of a moment alone, she wrapped herself in the cloak, crawled out of the overhang and dashed to the right, where the waterfall splashed. "Before you go, I have some things for you." She stopped. He pointed with his dagger. "A shirt and britches, along with some linen items. I've also left you a cake of soap. There's a waterfall behind the embankment." Did this guardsman expect her to disrobe and bathe behind a little wall of rock? She gave him a narrow-eyed stare. "I swore I wouldn't harm you, milady. If I meant to break that promise, would I not have done so before now?" He knelt on one knee before the fire and picked up his pan. "Besides, you'll find I take cooking rather seriously." Nay, this guardsman wouldn't threaten her privacy. Her face flushed at the desire to distract him from his cooking, which swept unbidden through her mind. She bit her lip and stepped over to gather up the pile. The soap, she noticed, was scented with with honey, cloves and other spices. She closed her eyes and breathed in the pleasant fragrance. While the lodgings might not be of the highest quality, at least the guardsman traveled with fine toiletries. "I'll remain here," he added. "Call me if there's anything out of the ordinary." "Out of the ordin'ry?" she muttered. "What could possibly be out of the ordin'ry about bathing beneath a waterfall?" "Well, for a start, you might wish to take a few leaves of that with you." He pointed to a plant with long, wide leaves spiraling up from its base. "Mullein." She blinked at it. "To treat an ear-ache?" "No." Clearly amused, he examined the trout fillets with his dagger. "Oh." Comprehension dawned. "Thank you." So much for fine toiletries. She plucked several of the downy leaves. "Milady?" "Yes?" "Be careful of your feet." * * * A few moments later, Marsten heard a yelp. He dropped the pan, drew his sword and dashed toward the embankment. "Milady!" He called over the sound of rushing water. "What is it?" He saw nothing unusual in the woods nearby. He listened. Nothing but the splashing waterfall. "I'm sorry," she answered from behind the rocky wall. "It's...cold!" What did she expect, jugs of water heated by servants? Marsten folded his arms. "I have a strong suspicion you're going to be trouble." A laugh. "You've no idea!" He couldn't help but chuckle. She had grumbled about the bulky Norlander boots the entire way to this place the night before, and he had scolded her for it. She was indeed a bold one, and clearly accustomed to comfort. Well, she'd better become unaccustomed—and fast. "I'm beginning to wonder if you were truly abducted," he chided again, "or just given away."